


History Repeats Itself

by lemoncellbros



Series: Trouble's Works [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b, Eurus Holmes - Freeform, Jim Moriarty - Freeform, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mrs. Hudson - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:58:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncellbros/pseuds/lemoncellbros
Summary: Oneshot I did on a whim. Sherlock and John are married and moving out, so they need to find someone to move into 221B.Written by Trouble





	History Repeats Itself

Emily Lancaster had always loved walking. Of course, now that she had a cane to help her along it wasn't quite as pleasant, but it didn't matter. The smell of rain in the air and the old statue of Peter Pan had always made Kensington Gardens her favourite place to go. She was just about to turn around to go home when a man that looked to be in his late 40s came up to her. She thought she recognized him.  
"Hi. It's Emily, right?"  
Ah. Now she remembered. John Watson, the poor man who had lost his wife a few years ago. Ironic that she was in such a similar situation as he used to be, what with the cane and all.  
"Yeah. Nice to see you again, Dr. Watson."  
"Good to see you too, Emily. How's your mother?"  
"Oh, she's fine. Bit cranky lately, as I've been living in the basement of her house until I can find a flat to live in."  
"Did you just get back?" John asked her, waving a hand towards the cane. "I heard that you'd been in Afghanistan recently."  
"Iran, actually, but close. Yeah, I just returned."  
"And you're looking for a place to live?"  
"Yes."  
"Terribly sorry-would you follow me to my flat? Sherlock and I are thinking of moving into a house, now that we're raising a 3 year old."  
Emily thought for a moment. "Sure."

And that was how she ended up in a taxi with Dr. Watson on her way to 221B Baker Street. When they arrived, a nice old woman who John introduced as Mrs. Hudson gave her a cuppa and showed her up to the flat. Emily wasn't quite prepared for what she saw when she stepped inside. A man with a mop of dark curly hair was hanging upside down from the ceiling, papers were strewn everywhere, and he was reading some sort of book. He somehow managed to turn towards them.  
"Ah. John, the moving truck will be here momentarily."  
"What?"  
"I knew this would happen. Start packing."  
"Sherlock-"  
"Yes?"  
"How in the world did you predict it?"  
"If I told you, that would ruin the fun, dear husband of mine. Hello Emily Lancaster. Welcome to your new home."  
Emily grinned at the absolute insanity of the flat around her. She loved it. She practically thrived on unusual situations. John frowned and went to his room to, as Emily presumed, start packing his stuff. Sherlock dropped his book.  
"25 years old, correct? Stationed in Iran? Suffered a leg injury? Part of the Air Force?"  
"Yes to all, sir."  
"How did you manage an injury like that in the Air Force?"  
"Well i-"  
"Wait, don't tell me. Some idiot accidentally set off a grenade in the back of the plane and you were sent falling to the land below. You mostly made it out alive except for seriously injuring your leg almost beyond repair."  
"How did you know that?"  
"I'm Sherlock Holmes."  
"Fair enough."  
Sherlock grabbed a knife out of his coat pocket, cut the rope above him, and fell. Emily jumped.  
"Oh don't be frightened. If you would be so kind as to help us pack our things into the boxes the movers will be bringing up here momentarily, I would be much obliged."  
A knock sounded at the door. Emily nodded, a bit shocked. For the next four hours, they packed the little belongings that the small family had into the moving truck, all the while discussing the basics of living at Baker Street. Finally, when it was all said and done, John and Sherlock tossed her the keys and walked out the door on their way to pick up Rosie from primary school.  
"Call us if you need help." John said, and closed the door. Emily smiled and picked up the phone to call her mom to bring her stuff to the flat. This was going to be interesting.

"So," John said, "that was abrupt."  
"You've known me for quite a long time, John, you know I don't take things slowly."  
"D'you think she'll be alright?"  
"My dear Watson, we won't be there. She'll be fine." Sherlock smiled as John laughed. Suddenly, a girl with dark brown hair blew past them, being chased by an evil looking man with a crowbar. John sighed, stepped in front of the man, and promptly punched him unconscious. The girl stopped and looked back at them.  
"Thank you." John smiled kindly.  
"Of course. Hate those kind of guys. We've dealt with far too many of them, eh Sherlock? Sherlock?"  
But Sherlock didn't reply. He was too busy looking at the girl. She looked somewhat familiar…

Ophelia Moriarty's day would've went perfectly if the cops hadn't kicked her out from under a bridge and a jerky drunk man hadn't chased her all over London. It was a good thing the two men saved her. One was obviously a doctor: his eyes had the tired and exhausted look of someone who spent long hours in an office. The other man was a little harder, but he was definitely somehow involved in crime: he examined everyone he met, it was obvious. The same way she examined and deduced others.  
"You're homeless." The deduction man said.  
"Yes, is that an issue?" Ophelia replied, ready to fight her way out of a jail cell again.  
"No. Would you like a home?"  
Ophelia froze. "What?"  
"Would you like a home?" He asked again.  
"Very much so." Ophelia answered. The man pointed towards a place called Speedy's.  
"Go into the door that says 221B on it. Ask for Mrs. Hudson and tell her that you're looking for the flat of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson-Holmes. She'll help you out."  
Ophelia frowned. This was too easy. It had to be a trap. And something about those names: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson- seemed familiar. They tickled the back of her brain, like a long lost memory. The shorter man stepped towards her.  
" It's alright. We're not going to hurt you."  
"Yes, I deduced that much. Thank you for the directions, Mr….Holmes." And she walked in the direction of the place called 221B.

John and Sherlock watched her walk away before turning back to each other.  
"Sherlock, you can't just randomly throw two people together and expect them to get along."  
"Well, that's what Mike Stamford did, and we've had a long and eventful life, haven't we?"  
John laughed. "C'mon, let's go get Rosie."

Ophelia slowly walked up the stairs to 221B, eyeing the hallway around her. Clearly many strange things had happened here. Hopefully 221B wasn't the source of all that. She wasn't sure if she wanted a haunted flat or not. She took a deep breath and opened the door, only to find a different girl with light blonde hair putting her things away. Ophelia cursed. They hadn't told her another girl was here. Oh well.  
"Hi, I'm your new flatmate." The other girl looked up, confused.  
"I didn't apply for one."  
Ophelia stood there awkwardly for a few moments.

Emily was confused. Why was this girl in the flat? She didn't understand it at all. Until the other one said:  
"Strange men, aren't they?"  
Oh. So Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson had set them up. Without telling her. She laughed a little.  
"Yeah."  
For a few minutes, they just stood there, staring at each other. Emily glanced outside. It was getting dark. She realized she hadn't eaten yet. And that she had a new flatmate to get to know.  
"Dinner?" She asked.

Ophelia smiled awkwardly.  
"Starving."


End file.
